


I've Got An Ides

by Galadriel1010



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Crossover, F/F, Five Times, Heist, Nonnies Made Me Do It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 10:47:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30037518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galadriel1010/pseuds/Galadriel1010
Summary: Christina de Souza recruits Irene Adler into UNIT as the Bunny to her Raffles. Happy Ides!
Relationships: Irene Adler/Christina de Souza
Collections: Accomplishing BFE Shit Bingo 2021





	I've Got An Ides

15th March 2014 - Bangkok

Rain pattered against the glass roof of the restaurant’s outdoor seating area, on a jetty that jutted out over the Chao Phraya River. Fairylights and candles provided a delicate illumination, although the effect was somewhat spoiled by the glare of bright LEDs that at least made it possible to read the menu. Irene trailed a finger around the edge of her glass. "Yes, I'd like the..." She looked up at the waitress and paused. "Oh."

Lady Christina de Souza grinned down at her. "Long time no see. You're a hard woman to find." She gestured at the chair opposite Irene. "Mind if I join you?"

"If I say yes, are you going to anyway?"

Lady de Souza didn't even bother answering, just pulled the chair out, dropped into it inelegantly and picked up the other menu. "Have you been here before? What's good here?"

"The Kow Moo Dang is good. The cocktails are better." She tapped her finger against the glass again. "Are you taking me out to dinner?"

"If you're interested."

Irene raised an eyebrow. "I heard you'd finally disgraced your parents utterly. Persona non grata."

"And I heard that you had a run in with the Holmes brothers."

A waitress arrived and Irene ordered for both of them. Starters, main course, jugs of cocktails. She waited until they were alone again, or as alone as they could be in a busy bar, before she returned to Christina's point. "There's not many people have heard of the other one."

"Mmm, Sherlock's a bit of a celebrity these days, isn't he?" Christina laughed. "I avoided him for years. It was Mycroft told me where to find you, though. Oh, just where to start looking," she assured Irene quickly. "Like I said, you're a hard woman to find."

"So why did you?" Irene asked, curiosity getting the better of her once more. "You're not here just for cocktails on the terrace, I'm sure."

Christina laced her fingers together and rested her chin on them, looking Irene up and down with a slow grin. "Well..." And suddenly she became serious. "Have you heard of UNIT?"

She could have walked out of the restaurant and out of Christina's life, no questions asked. But no questions answered either. If she wanted to know more...

Christina was staying at the Sheraton just up the river. In a suite, of course, that she wasn't paying for herself. The UNIT credit card had paid for dinner as well. They took a bottle of wine out onto the balcony, where Christina poured them each a glass and lounged back in her seat. It had stopped raining, and the bright lights of the city reflected off the river below them like an aurora. "UNIT are a global organisation, represented in nearly every country now. The problem is that they're a bit military at times. Big boots, and sometimes they need a more delicate touch. That's where I come in."

"I thought you were a thief."

She pouted. "I prefer to think of myself as an expert liberator, in the finest tradition of Raffles."

"A gentlewoman thief, then." Irene took a sip of the wine and was grudgingly impressed. She rarely admitted to herself just how badly she missed the finer things of life in London, but even a city like Bangkok couldn't quite make up for being on the far side of the world from Claridge's and the Ritz. "Sexy as hell, I'll admit, but I'm not quite sure how it fits into the alien hunting thing."

"Well, sometimes alien things arrive on earth, either on their own or with company, and they fall into the wrong hands." Christina chuckled. "Which at UNIT is used to mean any hands that aren't UNIT."

Irene rolled her eyes. "Of course it is."

"To be fair, some of them do have the potential to explode violently and catastrophically. Last year I secured a necklace with the capacity to level a small town." Her eyes drifted to the skyline and she smiled in fond recollection. "That was a fun one, actually. It almost went completely wrong."

If she wanted to know, she was going to have to ask, so she did. "What do you mean you secured it? What is your part in all of this?"

Christina glanced at her. "Well, if you're on the trail of something that small and that dangerous, you don't want to send in an army now, do you? You need someone with a specific skill set. Someone who can remove it to safety without anyone even noticing, perhaps..."

"And as Raffles is both fictional and Victorian, they turned to you." Irene raised her glass in toast. "And a fine job I'm sure you're making of it."

"So why am I here?"

"Why have you crossed half the world and turned to Mycroft Holmes for help finding me?" Irene corrected her. "Of all the people..."  
Christina rolled one toned shoulder in a lazy shrug. "I didn't turn to Mycroft, he turned to me. He heard I was looking for my very own Bunny, and... got word to me. There's a deal on the table, if you want it?"

"Of course there is," Irene scoffed. "There's nothing that man won't do for his baby brother. And if he keeps me on a string to do it, all the better. Go on then, what's the offer?"

A salary. Bonus per case. Her criminal record sealed, at Holmes's discretion of course. Freedom, of a sort. Adventure, excitement, and the very real risk of death on every case. He couldn't protect her from every government, but Mycroft Holmes hadn't found a pie he hadn't stuck his fingers into. She'd be free to operate in most of the world, as long as she did what they wanted. "And you?" she asked Christina. "Am I to be your Bunny Manders? Or will you pass me on when I'm no longer needed?"

Christina looked her up and down, and this time the offer was unmistakeable.

# # #

15th March 2015 – Rio de Janeiro

Getting in was the hard part. Once Irene secured their invitation, the rest worked like a well-oiled machine. She did the flirting, laying it on thick because men like del Ramo loved to have their egos stroked as much as other parts of their anatomy. He was one of those marks that she really enjoyed beating. After less than half an hour of listening to him brag about his wealth and the myriad immoral ways he'd gone about acquiring it, she had his room number and a less than subtle suggestion of what she should do with this information. It took another half hour to get away from him to join Christina, who Irene hoped had spent her time rather more profitably. "Senhor del Ramo has invited me to join him in his room later. I thought I might take him up on it."

Christina pulled her key card out of her bra and handed it over. "Did he say how much later?"

"Oh, a lot later. The party has hardly started, after all."

It wasn't fair to say that Rio was just getting started, because the city never seemed to stop. As the sun set over Acapulco Beach and the day's simmering heat finally started to dissipate in the sea breeze, though, the streets were lighting up and the volume was climbing. Through open doors and windows, the sounds of street parties and the roar of motorbike engines all but drowned out the quiet clicks from the multiple locks on the safe. Soon enough the entire party downstairs would move outside onto the terrace to watch a parade go past, organised for del Ramo himself. Apparently, the dancers would all be decked out in the colours of his football club - the one he owned, of course. Irene had met one of the drummers and he'd been very... forthcoming.

The safe door swung open at last, and Christina stood up to stretch her back, and wind her hair back into the tight bun that had concealed her lockpicks. "See," she said, glancing down at the open door. "I told you I'd get it."

"Do you think del Ramo will mind if he finds you tied to his bed in a post-orgasmic haze when he gets back up here?" Irene asked thoughtfully. "Because I'm very tempted right now."

Christina tossed a smirk over her shoulder as she crouched again to reach into the safe. "As much as the idea appeals... Come on, there we go." She pulled out a small, flat device, a little bigger than a mobile phone but with the computing power of NASA, and slid it into her purse. "I'm sure there's a perfectly serviceable bed back at the safe house."

"Well then," Irene purred. "We should..."

The door rattled against the chain and the chair that Christina had propped against it just in case. They exchanged a look and Irene gave her a quick nod. "Go," she hissed. "I'll distract them." She hurried across to the door, calling out to cover the sounds of Christina closing the safe behind them and bolting for the balcony. "I'm coming, I'm coming. Just getting ready in here..."

The heavy from del Ramo's security clearly recognised her, because he lowered his gun and gave her one of those looks. "Miss Aspen," he said, looking past her to the door leading into the bedroom. "What are you doing in Senhor del Ramo's suite?"

She gave him her most winning smile and flashed her room card at him. "I was invited, wasn't I? And what are you doing up here? Come to join me?"

"The parade is coming past soon," he told her, face blank to avoid giving away any hint of a reaction to her invitation, which was a shame. "You should re-join the party."

Irene sighed theatrically. "Perhaps later, then." She grabbed her bag, made sure that Christina was safely out of the room, and slipped her arm through his. "Come on then, show me the time of my life."

They found each other again on the terrace outside, where Christina handed her a tall glass of something blue and sweet and sober, and they leaned against the rail to watch the parade go past. At the head of the party, del Ramo gave her a pitying look and turned his attention to someone younger and blonder. His security man was by his side and couldn't stop his eyes from wandering to Irene every so often. She sighed and leaned into Christina. "It seems I have been supplanted."

"What a shame. I suppose we'll just have to find our own fun." Christina's lips brushed her ear. "I hope you still have those handcuffs."

It was easy enough to make their escape in the throng that flooded onto the streets in the wake of the parade, and to stroll unnoticed through the crowd to a busy beach-front bar where the bar tender accepted the alien computer in exchange for bottles of beer with an address written on the inside of the label. A taxi took them to the house and then a short walk through a quiet alley led to another, where baskets of flowers tumbled from the upper windows and a discreet biometric security system granted them access to a cool, dark corridor. Experience bred paranoia, so they checked the house thoroughly before they crashed into each other in the kitchen, pressed up against the table with lips and hands burning across skin. The adrenaline washed through Irene, leaving her shaking and oversensitive. "How long do we have here?" she asked against Christina's throat.

"Days at least." She moaned and her hips hitched against Irene's, giddy and graceless. "Days to fill and nothing to do. What are we going to do with ourselves?"

Irene fumbled for her zip in answer, the quiet purr of the teeth parting loud in the darkness, and the whisper of satin falling to the tiled floor was a promise. "We'll think of something."

# # #

15th March 2016 – Las Vegas  
Sin City welcomed them with open arms. They had a big budget, a suite with a view of the Strip, and free rein to run their own show. Irene accepted a flute of champagne from one of the pretty young waitresses, allowing her fingers to trail possessively over Christina's shoulder. She'd discarded her suit jacket a couple of hands back, and the crisp white cotton shirt, elegant in its simplicity with garnet cufflinks at her wrists, stretched delightfully across her muscled back, which shivered at Irene's touch. Christina was focused, though. Her cards were good, her chips were mounting, and, allegedly more importantly, their mark was getting drunker and more aggressive about showing off. The less impressed Christina seemed, the harder he tried.

Somewhere under the desert of Utah, if you believed the stories, there was a museum full of alien artefacts scavenged from the ruins of Torchwood, UNIT and every other institution. And quite possibly several tonnes of concrete. It had been owned by Henry van Statten, a Silicone Valley billionaire who had disappeared abruptly four years back. He'd been on UNIT's radar for years, and losing track of him had been both embarrassing and challenging. His assistant, Diana Goddard, had not been forthcoming after she took over the company. She'd been the one to tell UNIT about the concrete. Apparently, Jack Harkness had been the one to tell UNIT about her, but no one knew where he was now. 'Off world' was a reasonable bet.

It was alright for some.

Christina gathered up another stack of chips and passed a pile of them to the croupier to trade in. She barely looked up at Harton, despite his obvious annoyance, despite the fact that he'd finally mentioned his newest acquisition - several acres of Utah desert. "What are you planning to do with it?" she asked, disinterested. "Solar farms?"

"I might do. I'm more interested in what's under it."

Irene traced a finger down Christina's neck. "Gold, uranium?"

He laughed, and his gaze trailed up her arm but never quite reached her face. "Tell me... do you ladies believe in aliens?"

Finally, the jackpot they'd been after all week. Irene scoffed. "Little green men in UFOs?"

It did the trick. He bristled at her dismissal and pushed the croupier's hand back. "Not little green men. Monsters. You don't believe me, and why would you?" He grinned. "But I have proof."

Christina tilted her head. "Photos?"

He stared back at her and his grin shifted to a cruel, dark smile. "Better than photos," he promised. "You want to see?"

Harton's mansion was on the edge of the city, overlooking one of the vast golf courses and almost as big itself. He invited them to take seats at the card table and grabbed the cards to deal himself. "You ladies are new to Las Vegas, aren't you? You ever seen a house like this?"

"Only owned by literal royalty," Irene told him, sliding into the chair that Christina held out for her. "Everything in America is so very... grand."

"You're flattering me, but I like that about you. Do you play?" He didn't wait for an answer, just dealt her in and kept talking. "So here's the thing, I'm a collector. Weird shit, you know. Sure I've got the cars, the guns, the..." he gestured vaguely, "the guest book with autographs from all of Hollywood from when they've come to stay here. But everyone's got those, you know? I wanted something different. And that's what got me into aliens. Now don't get me wrong, it's not uncommon. I've met some great people who know way more about this stuff than I do. But I got talking to some of them, and I've tracked down something really special. You heard of Henry van Statten?"

Christina nodded as she reached for her cards. "Big investor. Went missing a few years ago. I heard a rumour he'd turned up in Sacramento."

"I heard it was San Francisco. Wasn't him, though. Or if it was, he doesn't know it. But I know people who know people. Van Statten, he never got outbid on anything, but sometimes he let things get away. Didn't think they were worth it, you know? And if he wasn't interested, well, the dealers start asking around and eventually they find me. You get what I'm saying?"

"You're saying you own... something alien," Irene guessed. "Something you think will prove to us that aliens exist."

"I own more than that, doll. I own a few acres of the Utah desert and mining rights all the way down, and right down there is van Statten's collection. I own it all." He chuckled and pulled open a drawer in the table, and from it extracted a device about the same size as the pack of cards the drawer was designed to hold. "But that's going to have to wait. If you want proof now, though, I've got this little thing. Doesn't look like much, does it?"

Irene allowed herself to look as she felt. She knew about aliens and she still wasn't impressed, so no sceptic would be won over. "It's a box?"

He laughed. "It's a communicator. Watch this."

The hologram flashed up above the table. It was an alien, about five feet tall if the hologram was full scale, hairless and with pronounced ridges from its brow up over its head and down the back of its thick neck. Whatever it was saying wasn't being translated, but it looked calm. Irene realised that she was staring open-mouthed. "It's..."

"It's an alien." Harton grinned at her. "And I can show you exactly where I'm going to find more of that."

Christina leaned forwards, and Irene held her breath. "Show me," she said. "Show me where aliens hide on earth."

Harton was all too happy to show them the exact coordinates, and within 48 hours Christina and Irene were on a flight and UNIT were camped out in the Utah desert, ready to dig.

# # #

15th March 2017 - Nairobi

Another year, another city, another job. A tangled network of contacts and rumours led them to a factory on the edge of Kibera, where a production line ground out computer parts for wealthier markets to fund the owner's lavish mansions and fast car collection whilst his staff paid him rent from their dollar a day wages. He was the sort of person Irene really didn't mind stealing from, and thankfully she'd never found a city that didn't have plenty of them to target. A busy factory like this was the perfect cover for illegal shipments, too. They'd found a lot more drugs than she'd expected before they came to the right packing case. It had taken altogether too long.

The air was hot and heavy with the rhythmic thumping of machinery, muffled by the concrete floors but still a constant presence Irene felt in her bones. Her heart hammered in time with it, pounding in her ears. They crouched at the end of another long row of packing cases and Christina spared her a glance. "Not far now," she whispered. "If we can just get onto the roof..."

Irene didn't believe her. She wanted to, but she didn't. She nodded anyway and managed a pale imitation of a smile. "Up, then."

They made it across the warehouse safely to the heavy steel door that cut them off from yet another concrete staircase. The artefact - Irene didn't know or want to know what it was this time - was heavy in her bag. If they made it to the roof, an extraction team would have them out in a matter of minutes. So far it was all going to plan, or almost according to plan. If it had been going to precisely to plan, they'd already be in the hotel bar or in bed, not edging their way through rows of packing crates with their hearts in their mouths whilst hired gunmen hunted them down.

She reached out and caught Christina's wrist before she opened the door. "Wait," she hissed. "What if they're..."

Christina nodded and turned the handle as gently as she could. The door was heavy and not easy to move with the care it required, but she managed to open it just a crack. Enough for them to hear voices echoing up the staircase and too many pairs of boots. She let it close again silently and rested her head against it, and for a moment neither of them spoke.

"We have to go back," Irene decided. "Find another way up. Or down."

"There is no other way."

"There has to be."

"I memorised the plans," Christina snapped. She scrubbed her hands over her face and shook her head, not at Irene but just in despair. "Even if we make it to the roof... We'll be trapped up there until the extraction team reaches us. It won't be quick enough."

Irene looked around the dark warehouse space. "There must be something... I'm not dying in a factory in Nairobi."

Christina snorted. "What do you have against Nairobi?"

"It doesn't have a Ritz Carlton, and I insist on dying at the Ritz." She was surprised when Christina caught her face in both hands and kissed her. "Christina, I..."

"Shut up. I love you."

Her eyes stung suddenly. They were running out of time. "Don't. Don't say that."

"Too late." She rested her forehead against Irene's and sighed heavily. "You go up, I'll go down and buy you time. Get to the roof and jam the door behind you. You should have long enough..."

"I'm not going without you."

Christina kissed her again. "You have to, because this isn't the Ritz."

"There has to be something!" Down below, the thump of the machinery fell silent suddenly, and even though the door they could hear shouts of anger. The warehouse was already dark and still, but when Irene tried the light switch next to the door it did nothing. Hope and fear warred in her stomach. "That's..."

"That's our chance." Christina pressed her ear against the door. "They're coming closer. But..."

There was the very clear sound of an explosion in the staircase, and a lot of very angry shouting in several different languages. Irene grabbed Christina and dragged them both behind the only shelter close to them, a forklift truck that would be no use if it came to a firefight but would hide them in the darkness. She pressed her down behind the truck and rested her forehead against her shoulder. "I love you too," she hissed, "and if we get out of this I'm going to kill you."

"Rather you than them, darling." She wrapped her arms around Irene and had the effrontery to smother a giggle in her hair. "Why do you put up with me?"

"I told you," Irene muttered against her shoulder. She remembered from time to time, usually in moments like this when things got difficult, that she wasn't here by choice. It had been a long time since she believed that, though. "Besides, they pay well."

Christina lifted her head, and her smile was shadowed in the darkness but still beautiful. "You know, I think that was almost sentimental, Miss Adler."

There was another explosion somewhere. The door still hadn't opened. Irene scoffed. "Don't delude yourself _my lady_. Love isn't..." She clenched her jaw. "What's taking them so long?"

"I could go and find them, if you're so eager to get shot at?"

She scoffed. "I meant the extraction team. I assume they're responsible for the explosions."

Christina eased herself out from under Irene and made for the door. She opened it a crack, then flung it open fully and planted her hands on her hips. "You're late," she told whoever she'd found. "And you're standing between me and a very stiff drink."

Irene sagged against the forklift, boneless with relief. "You're going to pay for that," she growled.

"Promises, promises," Christina sing-songed. "You can buy me dinner first."

"I hate you," Irene lied.

# # #

15th March 2018 - London  
It was strange how much and how little London had changed. The city's skyline has never been static, not for 2000 years, and in their absence the south bank of the Thames had acquired a fresh cluster of strangely-shaped towers, from the inelegant bulge of One Blackfriars to the oddly disconcerting offset windows of the Sky Gardens at Nine Elms. The floor to ceiling windows of the otherwise nondescript office that's been chosen for their meeting offer a stunning view over the river. Weak sunshine fought its way through the clouds to glitter off a landscape of glass, steel and concrete, studded with the last remnants of Georgian splendour and Baroque glory.

The boardroom door opened for the final time, and Mycroft Holmes slithered in. "Ah good," he said, and the sound of his voice was enough to make Irene's skin crawl. "You're all here."

Quorate indeed. In addition to Holmes, Irene and Christina the meeting was attended by his assistant, as always, and Irene and Christina's commander. Stephen greeted Mycroft with a firm handshake and a no-nonsense expression. "I'm sure I don't need to tell you that this meeting never happened," he said.

"Of course. In fact, I'm not sure most of exist to even attend it." Holmes smiled, and it almost looked real. He looked a lot more than six years older, but if half the rumours that had reached them were true it was hardly a surprise. He glanced between Irene and Christina and raised one eyebrow in mild surprise that made her want to smack him. "Lady de Souza, Miss Adler. Welcome back to London?"

"Are we?" Christina asked. She was still lounging in the chair she'd claimed at the head of the table and barely looked up. "That's nice."

"You don't have to be, I suppose."

Stephen gave Irene a glare, as if he thought she could keep Christina in order any better than he could and threw himself back into his chair. "Christina, try not to antagonise him before he's signed on the dotted line," he reminded her. "Afterwards is fair game."

Rolling her eyes, Irene turned her back on them all and resumed her admiration of he city. "How has London fared in our absence, Mr Holmes? It must be dreadfully tedious without us."

"I wish. Alas, I must inform you that you have never ranked in the top ten of most irritating people in the city. Even if we discount my brother." He smiled again. "If you ever ascend to the top of the list I will inform you, but if you had done so I can assure you we would not be here."

She watched his reflection in the glass as he took an empty seat and took an unopened bottle of water from the tray in the middle of the table. "And why are we here, exactly?"

"Because you have both proven yourselves to be assets to UNIT and to the British government, and as a result your record has been sealed for a period of ninety nine years."

Irene turned to face him again. "Who has the authority to reopen it?"

"No one." He rested his chin on his hands and watched her. "You committed an act of treason, conspired with terrorists and endangered many lives. I cannot have your record expunged entirely, and if you should ever find yourself facing similar charges again, I am sure that the facts would... find their way into the appropriate hands," he said, with another of those crocodile smiles. "But I'm quite sure that will never be an issue."

He wasn't alone in that. Irene had no intentions of ever crossing his path again, but whilst she had the opportunity, she considered him. "You've thawed," she said.

"A little."

"And you were never as icy as you liked to pretend." She joined them at the table at last and looked over at Stephen. "What are the terms?"

He shrugged. "You've served them. You're a free woman. You can walk out that door and UNIT will never call on you again unless the world is actively ending."

Standard separation terms. She'd be monitored to ensure she didn't turn into one of the sort of people she'd spent four years tracking down, and she had savings enough to disappear somewhere. From time to time, she'd considered Sylt, the pleasure resort of the rich and famous of Germany. Remote and glamorous enough for her to pass unnoticed, close enough to find an agent in London and publish some really scandalous books. She tapped a finger on the table and looked at Christina, who gave her a tiny half-shrug. "I assume there's another door?"

Holmes got to his feet and inclined his head to her. "Miss Adler, a pleasure to meet you under different circumstances. Lady de Souza, Commander Gregson."

"As always, Mycroft, thank you for your assistance."

He left them and Irene finally felt her chest loosen, for the first time since she left his house all those years ago. It was almost dizzying. Stephen watched her with something that almost looked like concern, which he smothered quickly. "There's no case for you just yet," he told them brusquely. "We'll check in at the Tower to sort your paperwork, and then get you settled into a hotel for the meantime. UNIT will be more than happy to have you on board for as long as you want to stay."

Christina cut him off with a flick of her fingers. "We'll go to the Tower tomorrow," she said. "Tonight, we're enjoying our freedom."

Dinner at the Ivy, dancing in Soho, and a very large bed in the highest hotel room Irene could find them. She pulled her phone out and rested her free hand on Christina's thigh. "And don't worry about tonight's hotel. I know exactly where we're going."

"The Ritz?" he guessed

"Oh no." She smiled as Christina's hand closed around hers and their fingers tangled together. "I've never felt more alive."


End file.
